


it's the final countdown

by gilligankane



Series: you can tell everybody this is your song [6]
Category: Wynonna Earp (TV)
Genre: 80's Music, Alternate Universe - High School, F/F, F/M, Gen, Mixtape
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-13
Updated: 2017-10-13
Packaged: 2019-01-16 21:32:32
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 12,494
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12351033
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gilligankane/pseuds/gilligankane
Summary: “Ready?” Nicole asks him.He taps his gloves together and rolls his shoulders. His neck is already shiny with a thin layer of sweat. “No,” he admits.Nicole gives him a shaky smile. “Well. You should have mentioned that earlier.”





	it's the final countdown

**Author's Note:**

> This week's installment of 80's Wayhaught HS AU features a HaughtDolls workout mix, a Rocky-like montage, and Nicole's fickle relationship with Devo.
> 
> This oneshot takes place in the summer of 1992, right after Waverly's sophomore year of college. 
> 
> For Smurf's favorite person; Happy Birthday!

**“The Final Countdown” Europe, 1986**   
_ And still we stand tall, ‘cause maybe they’re seen us (seen us) _

Wynonna slides across the freshly-polished floor of The Patch and into the counter, leaning over the top and grabbing the soda gun, spraying Orange Crush directly into her mouth. She throws an arm up in victory as she swallows. “Let’s get this party started!”

Gus looks up from where she’s counting the drawer and narrows her eyes. “Don’t make me regret this, Wynonna Earp.”

Wynonna’s smile doesn’t fade. She throws her arm around Gus’s shoulders and kisses the side of her face sloppily. “Don’t worry, Gus. Five-O will stop anyone from getting too crazy,” she says, nodding in Nicole’s direction.

Nicole rolls her eyes and readjusts her grip on Waverly’s waist, holding her tightly on her lap. Waverly lets her hand drop over Nicole’s, threading their fingers together. The air conditioning is kicking on full blast, the unbearable heat of summer right around the corner, but Waverly is home for the summer and there’s nowhere else Nicole would rather be.

Gus shakes her head. “Waverly, Nicole,” she says sharply. “I want the two of you to promise me you won’t let my diner burn to the ground.”

Waverly slips off Nicole’s lap and edges Wynonna away from Gus, planting a softer, neater kiss to the cheek. “I promise not to let Wynonna destroy anything. We  _ really _ appreciate you letting us use the diner, Gus.”

Gus softens. “Don’t let her near the fryers, either,” she warns.

“Of course,” Waverly agrees. “She won’t touch anything.”

Nicole stands and stretches a little, sighing softly when her back cracks. She leans on the counter. “Yeah, promise, Gus.”

Gus looks between Waverly and Nicole slowly and finally nods. “So who's coming tonight?”

“Chrissy and Perry, and I think Dolls and Jeremy are going to stop by. Maybe Rosita.” Waverly frowns. “Oh! And Doc, of course.”

Gus turns to look pointedly at Wynonna.

Wynonna puts her hands up in surrender. “Don’t spaz. We’ll keep out of the walk-in.”

Nicole flushes and drops her head to the counter, pressing her forehead against the cool surface. Waverly slides back around the counter, letting her hands drift across Nicole’s waist as she heads towards the jukebox. Nicole straightens up, taking her baseball hat off her head and running a hand through her hair. She puts her hat back on, the bill facing backwards, and tucks a loose strand of hair behind her ear. She tugs at the hem of her Purgatory Sheriff’s Department workout shirt, tucking it into her jeans. Waverly pushes a few buttons on the jukebox and comes up behind Nicole, pulling at her sleeve.

“Here, it’s crooked,” Waverly murmurs, unrolling Nicole’s t-shirt sleeve and refolding it twice. She smiles brightly at Nicole. “Are you excited to see everyone?”

Nicole scoffs, tries to ignore the sloppy rolls of her sleeves, and slips her hand into Waverly’s back pocket. “I see them all the time. You’re the one who hasn’t seen Chrissy or Rosita in months.”

“I  _ know _ ,” Waverly groans. “I can’t believe I haven’t seem them since Christmas.” She steps in until her hips press against Nicole’s. “I can’t believe I haven’t seen  _ you _ since Christmas.”

Nicole grins and ducks her head, brushing her lips against Waverly’s cheek, her eyes straying to Gus still at the cash register. “We can blow off this reunion and go have one of our own.”

Waverly’s breath hitches softly. She lets Nicole kiss her again and then she pushes her away, grinning. “We have all summer for that,” she promises.

Nicole fakes disappointment, but let's Waverly tangle their fingers together and move her around the dining room. Madonna’s “Papa Don’t Preach” is playing, Gus is slapping at Wynonna’s hands as they try to reach for the soda gun again, Waverly leans up on her tiptoes to kiss Nicole sweetly, and everything feels like it’s finally fallen into place.

She’s about to say so when the bell chimes above the door and Chrissy is squealing loudly. “Waverly!”

“Chrissy!”

Nicole stumbles slightly when Waverly pushes past her, but she rights herself and readjusts her hat. She shakes her head at Waverly, but she can’t help the smile that pulls at her lips. 

She remembers last summer, the first time they all got together, and the way Chrissy had slipped quietly into The Patch. Nicole had been wrapped up in Waverly, threading her fingers through her flannel tied around Waverly’s waist. Chrissy had stood in the doorway for a moment, unnoticed by Waverly until Nicole had squeezed her hips lightly and turned her around. Waverly walked a few steps and paused, toeing the linoleum lightly.

“Quit being drama queens,” Wynonna had muttered.

Chrissy had thrown her arms around Waverly and they had spent nearly twenty minutes in the back corner booth, heads pressed together, talking low. Nicole had finally slid in next to Waverly, throwing her arm around Waverly’s shoulders. Chrissy had smiled at them and Wynonna had turned up “Hard To Handle” by The Black Crowes and told them to get their asses to the counter; she was going to go make french fries.

Nicole gestures to Wynonna for a cup and fills it to the top with Orange Crush. She nods at Perry, coming through the door behind the Chrissy-and-Waverly scream-o-rama going on. He takes a seat at the counter next to her and she slides her glass of soda towards him. He drains half of it in one gulp.

“Are they  _ always _ like this?”

Nicole takes the next glass Wynonna slides towards her, Orange Crush dripping down the side. She licks at the drops and taps her glass against Perry’s. “For sure. Get used to it.”

Gus slams the drawer shut, shoving the day’s profit into a bank bag. She grabs her coat off the hook by the swinging door and stops in front of Nicole. “I’m not kidding, girl. When you did this last year, Wynonna nearly blew a hole in my ceiling.”

Nicole nods slowly. “We won’t let her near the stove again. I promise.” She holds up three fingers. “Scout’s honor.”

Waverly groans from across the room. “You’re  _ not _ and you  _ never _ have been a Scout, Nicole.”

“I can still have honor,” Nicole argues.

“Then just say you solemnly swear.”

Nicole shrugs. “Scout’s honor sounds better.”

The bell chimes again. Rosita comes in the door, and the squealing starts all over. Gus winces at the same time Nicole does, gives her a sympathetic look, a pat on the shoulder, and then slips out through the kitchen. 

By the time the second Madonna song is over, Nicole has pulled all of the baskets of fries Gus made them out of the kitchen, and Waverly has grabbed everyone something to drink. Wynonna had loaded the jukebox so it’ll play every Bad Company song it has, followed by every Def Leppard track. Dolls and Jeremy are pulling two chairs up to the tables they pushed together, and Nicole can hear Doc’s motorcycle humming as he parks it. 

“ _ Close my eyes and I let myself go _ ,” Paul Rodgers sings. “ _ Listen to, oh, baby, let the music flow _ .”

Waverly sits down in her lap, twisting until she’s facing Chrissy and Rosita. Nicole huffs, trying to clear Waverly’s hair from her face. Waverly pulls Nicole’s arm around her waist and runs the tips of her fingers over the back of Nicole’s hand. Chrissy smiles shyly at Perry while Rosita threads strands of her hair together into a loose braid. Wynonna grabs Doc by the front of his jacket and pushes him down into a seat, following him to press a kiss to his mouth. Dolls readjusts his sweater but flashes a quick smile at Nicole as he picks up his glass of water and turns towards Perry. Jeremy tries to sit down and misses his chair, his ears red at the tips as he tries again. 

Sometimes, Purgatory feels so lonely without Waverly around. But then she comes back, and Purgatory feels like  _ home _ again.

“Okay, okay,” Wynonna says loudly. Waverly settles back against Nicole’s chest. “Let this meeting of the Black Badges commence!” 

“Oh, you used a big word,” Waverly teases.

Nicole frowns. “ _ Black Badges _ ?”

Wynonna points at her leather jacket, hanging on a stool at the counter. “Black jacket.” She fists Doc’s collar. “Black jacket.” She points at Nicole and then Waverly. “Black, black.” She looks at Chrissy and Rosita. “You look like you own one.” She eyes Perry and Dolls. “You’d look  _ good _ in one.” 

“I have a formal blazer!” Jeremy chimes in.

Wynonna shrugs one shoulder. “That’ll do.” She gestures at Nicole. “See? Black Badge.”

“More like Black  _ Jacket _ ,” Nicole corrects.

“When you found a club, you can make the rules.”

Nicole snorts. “That’s…”

Wynonna lifts one eyebrow, daring Nicole to keep going.

Nicole’s lips twitch. “Ridiculous,” she finishes.

Wynonna throws a fry at her, but it goes wide. “You’re just jealous you didn’t come up with it first.” She chucks another fry, but it hits Waverly instead.

Waverly glares at Wynonna and leans forward, but softens when Nicole strokes her thumb up Waverly’s side. Wynonna sticks her tongue out at Nicole, but Waverly twists and leans into Nicole’s line of sight. She hooks her finger under Nicole’s chin and lifts, kissing her softly. Nicole’s hands slide to the small of Waverly’s back, fisting the soft cotton of Waverly’s New Kids on the Block shirt.

“Quit being grody,” Wynonna says. She pops a fry into her mouth.

Waverly pulls back slowly, pressing one more lingering kiss to Nicole’s mouth. “So what has everyone been up to?” she asks, leaning back against Nicole again. 

Nicole listens as Chrissy talks about the bank and how Mr. Cryderman keeps coming in to complain about interest and how the bank is stealing his money. Perry’s climbing the ladder at the his dad’s company, pushing paper and spending his lunch break visiting Chrissy or polishing the hood ornament on his 1990 Mercedes Benz 560. Rosita and Doc are still down at Rosita’s dad’s motorcycle repair shop, but they’re working on a 1969 Indian Velocette 500, pulling it apart piece by piece and putting it back together again. Doc’s eyes are wide and bright and he talks more than Nicole has ever heard him say in one sitting; Rosita keeps sighing the way Waverly does when she’s looking at Jonathan Knight. 

“Oh!” Jeremy says when it’s his turn. “I mean, I’m finally done with high school, but I’ve been spending a lot of time with Dolls while he trains for-  _ Ow _ .”

Nicole tips her head, frowning. Jeremy leans down and rubs at his leg. Waverly shifts forward in her lap. Wynonna looks up from where she’s separating a basket of fries into a pile for her and pile for Doc.

“What was that?” Wynonna leans in. “What is Dolls training for?”

Jeremy looks at Dolls, his eyes wide. “Uh, it was nothing. Forget I said anything.” He looks around wildly. “Hey, have you guys ever heard of cricket?” His voice is high and pinched.

Wynonna stands up from her seat slowly, her eyes narrowed. “Jeremy,” she says slowly.

Jeremy’s head whips back and forth between Wynonna and Dolls. “Nothing. I didn’t say anything.”

“ _ Jeremy _ ,” Wynonna says again.

He squeaks and looks helplessly at Dolls.

Dolls reaches over and puts a hand on Jeremy’s shoulder. “It’s fine.” He clears his throat. “I’m, uh, training to fight in the Ghost River Country Clubs Invitational.”

Jeremy slumps forward, relieved he didn’t have to be the one to break the news. “I’m his trainer!” he adds.

For maybe the first time, Nicole looks Dolls up and down. There’s clearly some definition under those short-sleeve polo shirts he’s always wearing. His arms are muscled and his shoulders look strong. She’d never guess he could  _ fight, _ but now that she looks him over, she’s sure he could hold his own against the right opponent. 

“You?” Wynonna asks. “Are going to  _ fight _ ?” She looks around the table, her eyes wide. “Do you have a special polo for that?”

Chrissy snorts, small droplets of Orange Crush splattering the table top. 

“It’s for charity.”

“Fighting for charity,” Wynonna repeats.

“Boxing,” Dolls corrects.

Wynonna waves a hand dismissively. 

Dolls crosses his arms over his chest and narrows his eyes. “Boxing isn’t reserved for motorheads in leather jackets. It’s a sport of discipline and precision. Not everything is a ‘whoever hits the hardest wins’ contest.”

Nicole leans forward a little. “There was a guy at the Academy with me who was into boxing. Said it was the best way to keep in shape.”

Dolls nods sharply. “It keeps me on my toes.”

Wynonna peers at Dolls. “Do you need to keep in real shape for  _ accounting _ ?”

“Yes. I add numbers better,” Dolls says dryly.

Wynonna rolls her eyes. “See if I come to you for my taxes.”

“Do you  _ pay _ taxes?” Dolls asks, leaning forward.

“Hysteria” comes on and Nicole’s hands flex against Waverly’s waist. Waverly looks over her shoulder and smiles shyly at her, biting down on her bottom lip. She lifts her hand and threads it through the ends of Nicole’s hair, working her way up until she’s got a firm grip on the bill of Nicole’s hat. She takes it and pulls it down over her own hair, turning it backwards like Nicole had been wearing it. She looks Nicole in the eye and sings along softly.

“ _ I'm in luck, I'm in deep, yeah.” _ She leans in. _ “Hypnotized, I'm shakin' to my knees,” _ she breathes into Nicole’s ear.

For a moment, Nicole is sure her heart stops.

Waverly presses a lingering kiss to her forehead before turning back around, leaving Nicole hatless and breathless. She leans back against Nicole’s chest and pulls Nicole’s arms around her waist again, tapping her fingernails against Nicole’s bare arm in time to the song. 

“ _ Oh, I get hysterical, hysteria. Oh can you feel it, do you believe it? It's such a magical mysteria _ ,” she sings softly. She runs a finger back along the bill of the hat.

Nicole swallows heavily, her throat dry. She thinks back to that night in her car: the way Waverly had pulled her flannel on and made it  _ hers _ . Nicole knows she’s not getting that hat back again, and a part of her wants to be annoyed, but the other part of her is just trying to get through this song breathing. 

“Since everyone asked,” Wynonna says, her voice thick with sarcasm. “I’m  _ fine _ . In fact, I’m great.” She pauses for a second. “The Banditios are headed back through town in a few weeks and they asked if I wanted to tag along.”

Waverly straightens up a little. “What?”

Wynonna shrugs. “Purgatory is getting a little stale.”

Nicole shifts, her numb leg pulsing back to life as Waverly moves forward on her lap. “So you’re just leaving?” Waverly asks. She looks at Doc. “You’re okay with her just leaving?”

Doc puts up one hand, using the other to tip his hat back. “Far be it from me to tell Wynonna what she can and cannot do.”

Waverly pushes off her lap, and Nicole doesn’t stop her. She leans back in her chair and runs a hand through her hair as Waverly grabs Wynonna by the elbow and marches her towards the jukebox. Nicole watches them carefully, Curtis in her head as she watches them argue. 

_ Keep them on track _ , she hears him say.

She almost gets up to go over there, but she sees the hunch of Wynonna’s shoulders and she knows it’s not the right time. Not when Wynonna is going to be defensive; not when Waverly is going to be angry; not when they’re here in front everyone and both of them will try and act like they’re not hurt. Instead, she pulls Wynonna’s abandoned basket of fries closer and looks back at Dolls.

“Boxing.”

He grunts back at her.

She nods, one eye on Waverly and Wynonna. “Are you, like, diesel at it?”

Jeremy sighs softly. “He’s really good.”

Nicole lifts one eyebrow.

“I mean,” Jeremy backpedals. “He’s better than the other guys who work out at the gym. Not that a lot of guys work out at Purgatory Country Club, but Dolls is  _ definitely _ the best.”

Nicole nods, crossing her arms over her chest. Dolls looks at her and leans back in his chair, doing the same. Nicole grins.

“So what is this Ghost River Country Clubs Invitational?” she asks.

“It’s all of the country clubs in Ghost-” Jeremy stops. “Oh. You were talking to Dolls.”

Dolls’s lips twitch. “It’s all of the country clubs in Ghost River County. There’s six of them. Each club selects a boxer. It’s a basic bracket-style competition.”

“Dolls is totally going to win,” Jeremy adds. 

Nicole spares another glance at Wynonna and Waverly. They’re not arguing now. Worse, they’re not talking; Wynonna is punching at buttons on the jukebox and Waverly is kicking at the floor.

“When is it?” Nicole asks Dolls. “The fight, I mean.”

“First weekend in August.” He swallows the rest of the water in his glass.

Nicole looks back at Waverly. “Well, okay. We’ll be there.”

“You don’t need to-”

“We’ll be there,” she says again, eyes still on Waverly.

Dolls is quiet for a moment until Nicole looks back at him. “Thanks, Haught.”

She nods and hops out of her seat, clapping him on the shoulder before she crosses the dining room and comes up behind Waverly. Wynonna is back at the counter, refilling her glass, scowling down at the rows of glasses below the countertop. Nicole rests her chin on Waverly’s tense shoulder. She feels Waverly flinch away.

“Hey,” she breathes out against Waverly’s neck. “I know, baby.”

Waverly leans back into her, relaxing slightly. “She’s  _ leaving _ ,” she mutters.

Nicole smoothes her hands down Waverly’s arms until their hands meet. She tangles their fingers together. “We’ll talk to her tomorrow, okay? Let’s just enjoy the rest of the night.”

Waverly sighs. “You’re right.” She turns and loops her arms around Nicole’s neck. “You’ll stay over tonight?”

Nicole grins. “You’re going to have to sneak me in. Gus’ll kill me if she catches us.”

Waverly pushes up onto her toes. “I’ll make the risk worth your while,” she whispers. She trails her fingernails across Nicole’s neck as she lets go and spins out of Nicole’s arms, sauntering back towards the table, stealing Nicole’s chair and pulling it up next to Chrissy and Rosita.

“That girl is going to be the death of me,” Nicole murmurs to herself.

 

-

Nicole is sure of herself until she’s standing outside of the large white doors of Purgatory Country Club, readjusting her leather jacket. It’s new and still cracks a little when she twists the wrong way, but she loves it all the same. Waverly had gotten it for her birthday, a replacement for the one Nicole had given her when she left for the Academy. 

“I even got you a Def Leppard patch,” Waverly had shyly.

Nicole had sewn it onto the shoulder.

She touches the patch now, for luck, as she pushes open the door to the Club. She’s never been inside before; her mom isn’t the kind of person who can afford a membership. She blinks a few times as her eyes adjust to the dark wood walls and the heavy cranberry-colored rugs under her feet. There’s a small desk to her right with a visitors log on it. She hastily scribbles her name and shoves her hands into her pockets, peeking around a corner.

“Can I help you?” someone asks from behind her.

She turns too quickly and nearly stumbles. She catches herself on the wall, wincing when she pulls her hand back and leaves behind greasy fingerprints. She wipes at her mouth, cursing her decision to stop at The Patch for a burger before coming over, then wipes her hands on her jeans. 

“Yeah. I mean,  _ yes _ .” She straightens her shoulders. “I’m looking for Dolls.”

The woman - Karen Daniels, Nicole’s brain supplies, from the PTA - narrows her eyes. She’s in a long white and black striped dress that goes to her ankles, sleeves rolled in clumsy inches, and a wide tan belt around her waist. Her heels put her a few inches above Nicole and her hair gives her even more height.

Nicole has stared down drunks and vandals and Waverly before, but this woman and her plastic smile just might be the scariest thing she’s ever seen. 

“Xavier Dolls,” Nicole corrects. “I’m looking for Xavier.”

Karen’s mouth twitches. “Are you a member here?”

Nicole looks down at herself without meaning to. She finished her shift earlier and just barely remembered to  jump in the shower before she headed over to The Patch, to see Waverly as she started her waitressing shift. She’s in her jacket and a Poison band t-shirt, her dark jeans, and her new Red Wing Brogue Rangers. Her hair is still damp and curling up at the ends. She knows she’s out of place here, but she holds Karen’s gaze like she’s staring down Carl Junger after last call, and doesn’t back down.

Karen opens her mouth to say something, but Nicole sees Dolls over her shoulder. She grins widely at Karen and sticks two fingers in her mouth, letting loose a whistle.

Dolls turns, frowning. His face twitches into something like a smile when he spots her. 

Karen glares at Nicole. “We don’t-”

“Ms. Daniels,” Dolls says sweetly. He throws the hand towel he’s holding over his shoulder and gives Karen a wide smile. “I’m sorry. I forgot to mention I was having a guest today.”

Karen’s eyes struggle to stay on Dolls’s face, drifting instead to his bare arms and the white undershirt he’s wearing. “Yes, well-”

Dolls touches Karen’s elbow. “I absolutely apologize. Have you met Nicole Haught? She’s one of Sheriff Nedley’s most promising officers.”

Karen looks back at Nicole. “Really?” she asks skeptically.

“Oh, yes, ma’am,” he continues in a honey-sweet voice.

“Sheriff says I have a lot of potential,” Nicole adds.

Karen glares for another moment before her eyes soften. “I suppose it’s fine just this once, Xavier.”

Nicole nearly tips her the hat she’s not wearing, but she keeps her hands steady in her pocket and lets Dolls throw an arm over her shoulder, wincing as his sweaty skin squeaks against the leather. She looks back over her shoulder as they move down the hallway; Karen Daniels is still staring after them as they turn the corner.

Dolls’s arm slips off her jacket and Nicole immediately takes it off, using the end her t-shirt to wipe it down. Dolls is quiet as they continue down hallway after hallway. Nicole tries to take it all in. Everything is fancy and reminds her of her grandmother’s house in Ontario. She throws her jacket over her shoulder and forces her hand down into her jeans pocket. She can hear the sound of metal clanking together, and something that sounds like Kris Kross. It gets louder as they step into a small room off the hallway.

“ _ The Mac Dad will make you jump, jump. Daddy Mack will make you jump, jump. Kris Kross will make ya jump, jump,” _ the speaker in corner of the room blasts.

There’s another guy in the corner of the room, using a bench press, a Walkman on the waistband of his shorts. He sees them and looks up, pulling his headphones down. 

“Greg, this is Nicole Haught,” Dolls says. He points at the guy. “Nicole, Greg Lucado.”

Nicole’s eyes widen. “As in-”

“Yes,” Dolls says, nodding sharply. “Lucado’s husband.”

Greg puts his headphones back on and picks up a dumbbell, curling his arm up as he stares in the mirror.

Nicole’s hand reflexively goes to her shoulder, rubbing at a spot that hasn’t ached in years. She can still feel Ms. Lucado’s hand fisting her shirt and dragging her to the principal’s office. “I didn’t know she was married.”

Dolls shrugs. “I don’t think you were supposed to.” He tosses the hand towel he’s holding into a small pile of used towels near the free weights. “What’re you doing here?”

Nicole drops her jacket over the rail of a treadmill as Dolls picks up a jump rope. She looks around the room. There’s the treadmill and the bench press. There’s a rowing machine, a stack of free weights, a set of lockers, and an elevated boxed ring towards one side of the room. Dolls twists his head side to side and rolls his shoulders back. Nicole leans against the treadmill and watches him bounce on the tips of his toes.

“I ran into Jeremy today, while I was on patrol,” she says casually.

Dolls shakes his head, a small affectionate smile pulling at his lips. 

“He’s real… He thinks you’re the tits,” Nicole says.

Dolls snorts. “Only because Doc is very much in a relationship.”

Nicole pauses. “Oh, you think…?” She stops again. “Jeremy’s gay?”

Dolls looks up. “For a Roller, you sure miss a lot.”

Nicole folds her arms over her chest. “Hey. That’s not true, I just-” He lifts an eyebrow and she snaps her mouth closed.

Dolls starts to bounce on his toes again, rolling out his wrists. He drops the jump rope behind him and swings it up over his head experimentally, stepping back when the rope whizzes a little too close to Nicole’s face. 

“Not that it matters to me,” Nicole adds.

Dolls snorts. “Obviously.”

“ _ Anyway _ ,” Nicole says. “I ran into him and he was going on about how great you are and how the guy from the Old Kindersley Country Club isn’t going to know what hit him.” She waits until he drops the rope again, counting 60 rotations. “He also mentioned that you were nervous.”

Dolls’s jaw twitches. “I’m not nervous.”

Nicole shrugs. “I’m just telling you what Jeremy told me.”

“Well he’s wrong,” Dolls says firmly. 

Nicole puts her hands up in surrender. “My bad.” She lets Dolls go through another rotation, shorter this time. “I just thought you could use some help. Besides Jeremy,” she adds. “I’m sure he’s a kickass water bottle holder, but I’m guessing he can’t take a punch well.”

Dolls pauses, his chest heaving. “Haught, what are you offering?”

Nicole shrugs. “You’ve got less than two months until you fight, and Jeremy cheerleading for you in the corner won’t make you  _ better _ . But I can help.”

“You want to be my training partner?”

Nicole looks around the small gym before letting her eyes fall back on Dolls. He’s breathing hard through his nose, his shoulders and chest rising and falling heavily. She’s not sure why she’s offering to be his training partner. They’ve been a part of the same group her whole life, but they’ve never spent time alone together. She thinks training could be good for her - get her back into that Academy-shape she was in. It doesn’t hurt that Waverly had spent last night in her bed, trailing her fingertips across her arms and stomach, telling her how good she would look with a pair of gloves on, in the middle of a ring.

Nicole had rolled over and trapped Waverly beneath her. “ _ How ‘bout I stay here and you fight _ ?” she quoted.

Waverly giggled and tried to squirm out from under. Nicole tightened her arms, keeping Waverly still.

“I wouldn’t be a good  _ Italian Stallion _ ,” Nicole murmured.

Waverly pressed a kiss to Nicole’s chin, then the corner of her mouth, then Nicole’s cheek. “No. But you’d be a good  _ Canadian Cardinal _ .”

Nicole laughed so loud she had to press her face into Waverly’s neck to stop her mom from hearing her. 

Now, in the small gym in the back of Purgatory Country Club, she’s hesitating. She finally nods sharply. “Yeah. I want to be your training partner.”

Dolls tips his head to one side, studying her. He looks her up and down, his eyes narrowed as they go from her boots to her her jeans to her Poison t-shirt. She shifts a little and drops her arms to her sides, uncomfortable, but he eventually looks up and meets her eyes.

“You’ll need to lay off the Orange Crush,” he says firmly.

“Hey!” 

“The sugar in it will make you slow on your feet. Water is better,” Dolls continues. He looks back down at her feet. “And you’ll need some sneakers.”

“I own sneakers,” she argues.

“What do you know about boxing?”

Nicole crosses her arms over her chest again. “More than Jeremy.”

“Fair enough,” Dolls agrees. “We can start tomorrow?”

Nicole nods. “I get off at six.”

Dolls pauses for a moment, his mouth turned up in something like a smirk. “What’ll Waverly say?”

Nicole grabs her jacket and slides into it one arm at a time. “Oh, she’s already practicing her lines.”

Dolls takes a few steps after her. “Her lines?”

Nicole pauses in the doorway and throws him a smile. “She’s gonna be the Adrienne to my Rocky.”

She’s pretty sure she hears him groan as she heads back towards the front door.

She makes sure to throw Karen Daniels a wink on her way out.

 

-

The next few weeks are a blur of gym time and long runs and sneaking in a glass of Orange Crush when she can, all set to the best mixtape she’s made since the one she played for Waverly.

 

-

They run through the streets of Purgatory as the sun rises. Nicole has her Walkman on her hip and they’re humming along to “Eye of the Tiger” as they duck down Homestead Ave, Reeboks slapping the pavement in time to the song. She loses her footing slightly as they go by the McCready house. She can see the curtains fluttering in Waverly’s open window and she glances at Dolls quickly, wondering if she could peel off and try to coax Waverly down from her bedroom.

“Eyes on the prize, Haught,” Dolls wheezes, a few feet ahead of her.

Nicole flushes and leans forward, putting her shoulders against the early morning breeze. She catches up to him easily. 

“ _ Hanging tough, staying hungry _ ,” she breathes out.

“ _ They stack the odds still we take to the street _ ,” Dolls sings.  
  
Nicole grins as she joins him. “ _ For the kill with the skill to survive _ .”

 

-

Dolls bounces on the tips of his toes and ducks Nicole’s right hook. She rocks back on her heels and sucks in her stomach when Dolls jabs forward. She shakes her head at him. 

“You’re going to need to be better than that,” she says, smirking.

His next hook catches the tip of her chin. Her neck twists hard but she grits her teeth against the pain. 

She shakes out her arms, rolling her shoulders. Her hair sticks to the back of her neck and sweat runs down her chest, staining her sports bra. Her legs burn as she bounces up and down, but she brings her glove down hard into the muscle in her thigh. Pat Benatar is pumping through the gym speakers. Dolls smiles, a flash of white teeth, before he dips to the left and tries to catch her flat-footed.

Nicole spins away. “Is it too much to say  _ hit me with your best shot _ right now?” she asks.

Dolls’s chest heaves as he barks out something like a laugh. Nicole springs forward and catches him in the left side, their arms locking for a moment before she pushes him away again.

“How about  _ fire away _ ?” she offers.

Dolls roars and charges her.

 

-

“Is that all you have?” Nicole shouts at Dolls. She leans forward and pulls back again, the resistance from the rowing machine straining her muscles.

Dolls’s seat slides up and down the frame as he rows alongside her, the metal plate scratching the beam. Guns N’ Roses “Welcome To The Jungle” is loud in her ears, but she can hear Dolls panting next to her. Her own heart is racing, her back aching as she pulls and slides and pulls and slides.

“Eat my shorts,” Dolls growls back.

Nicole grins and grips the handles harder, letting her body slam back with the force of her pull. Her toes are flexed against the foot pedals and her knees pop every time she straightens them. The old Black Sabbath t-shirt she ripped the sleeves off of billows back and forth as she moves along the rower frame. The new baseball hat she bought - she was right, Waverly wouldn’t give it back - keeps her hair out of her eyes, but she can feel the sweat building on her forehead. She lets go of the grip with one hand, her other arm straining as the resistance adjusts. She knocks her hat off her head and runs her hand through her hair quickly.

Dolls smirks at her.

She grabs for the handle again and pulls hard, trying to catch up to his pace.

 

-

Jeremy is filling Dolls’s water bottle, tapping against the fountain in time to Mötley Crüe’s “Dr. Feelgood” playing from the boombox in the corner of the ring. Nicole leans over the ropes, trying to stretch a spot in her back. She groans when she feels Waverly’s hands run along her bare skin, up over her sports bra, and to the base of her neck. 

“ _ You _ are Dr. Feelgood,” Nicole says, eyes closed against the look she knows Waverly is giving her. 

Waverly’s hands go back to a spot above the waistband of her gym shorts, kneading the knot just under her muscle. Nicole immediately straightens up, hissing.

“Oh, shoot. I’m sorry,” Waverly apologizes, smoothing her flat palms against Nicole’s sides.

Jeremy holds up Dolls’s water bottle and smiles brightly at him as he tips it high enough so Dolls gets a mouthful.

Dolls taps his gloves together and dances forwards on his toes. Nicole leans down and takes the kiss Waverly presses to her cheek before she meets Dolls in the middle of the ring. Nicole rolls out her neck, not used to the weight of the mask she’s wearing to protect her face. 

“Looking good, baby,” Waverly says, leaning on the ropes.

Dolls jabs and strikes and backs her into a corner. She ducks a right left hook and slips under his outstretched arm, catching him in the muscle right above his shoulder blades. She dances away and meets his next punch head-on.

 

-

“This is  _ not _ helpful to me,” Dolls growls as he jogs next to her cruiser.

Nicole keeps one hand on the wheel as she leans out of the driver’s window. “Really? I like this just fine.”

Dolls glares at her. “If you needed to work, we could have a just rescheduled.”

“And miss this?” Nicole shakes her head. “No way, McFly.” She reaches for the can of Orange Crush resting on her dashboard. “You thirsty?”

“Haught,” Dolls hisses.

Nicole grins widely and takes a long sip from the can, putting it back down on the dash. She drops her fingers to the volume dial on the tape deck, already loaded with her workout mix she made for them.

She slams a flat palm against the steering wheel before she starts snapping her fingers to the beat. 

“ _ My baby, he don’t talk sweet. He ain’t got much to say,”  _ she sings along with Deniece Williams. “ _ But he loves me, loves me, loves me. I know that he loves me anyway. _ ”

“Oh, I  _ love _ this song!” Jeremy shouts from the backseat. “Dolls, this is  _ totally  _ your song.”

Dolls thumps his fist against the lettering on the side of the car.

Nicole throws her head back and laughs as Jeremy takes over singing. “ _ And maybe he don't dress fine, but I don't really mind. Because every time he pulls me near. _ ”

“ _ I just want to cheer, _ ” they both sing. 

Nicole revs the engine and picks up speed. “Let’s hear for the boy!” she shouts.

Dolls slaps the back end of her car and lets his arms flail as he tries to keep up.

 

-

Wynonna hangs out of the window of Charlene, her hair whipping in the wind. “Come on! Run!”

Nicole grits her teeth and glances at Dolls out of the corner of her eye. He’s staring straight ahead, his arms controlled and tucked into his sides. Nicole tries to lengthen her stride, stretching her legs out as far as they can go before she loses her balance.

Charlene swerves as Doc avoids a pothole. Nicole can hear Wynonna squeal, and then the engine of Doc’s Camaro before it’s all swallowed up  by Wynonna singing along to Fire Inc.’s “Tonight Is What It Means To Be Young.”

“ _ Let the revels begin, let the fire be started. We're dancing for the restless and the broken-hearted _ ,” Laurie Sargent sings.

Charlene rockets forward over the glass-scattered pavement of the Triangle. Nicole winces at feel of rocks under her Reeboks, knowing the soles are being chewed up, but she ducks her head and sprints faster. The sun beats down on her bare shoulders and she knows she’ll have a tan line around the strap of her sports bra, but she doesn’t care. She can feel Dolls at her elbow, panting heavily as he keeps pace.

Wynonna leans out the window again. “ _ Tonight is what it means to be young _ ,” she screams into the wind.

 

-

“You’re getting better at this,” Nicole wheezes after she spits out her mouthguard.

Dolls grins and lets his own mouthguard drop to the mat. Jeremy scoops it up and Nicole winces, making a face as Jeremy squirts some water into it. Nicole looks down at her own guard on the mat and shrugs.

“I think you’re ready,” she says.

“You  _ think _ ?” Dolls asks.

Nicole shrugs. “You’re gonna eat lightning. You’re gonna crap thunder.”

Jeremy cuts through the tape on Dolls’s wrist. Dolls slips his hands from his gloves and reaches to cut Nicole’s gloves off, but Waverly slips in and steals the scissors, turning Nicole’s hands over gently, resting the gloves on the top rope as she works the scissors carefully between the tape and Nicole’s skin.

“I was watching Bryce Cooper  last week. He trains with a kid I know from the physics circuit I was in. You know,” Jeremy says. “Back when I was in high school.”

Waverly snorts softly, freeing one of Nicole’s hands.

“He’s good. Like, knock you out in one punch good.” Jeremy’s head snaps in Dolls direction. “Obviously not as good as you, Dolls.”

Nicole shakes out her wrists as Waverly takes both of her gloves and puts them on the small stool in the corner. She turns down the radio, lowering “We Built This City” down until it’s a whisper. Nicole can still hear Starship singing softly. 

“You  _ are _ good,” Nicole agrees. “Not, like, Marvin Hagler good, but you’re decent.”

Dolls narrows his eyes. “You couldn’t have picked Sugar Ray?”

“Sugar Ray Leonard is  _ much _ better than you.” Nicole reaches into the small cooler by the stool and grabs a bottle of water, tossing it at Dolls. He catches it in one hand. She grabs one for herself and leans back against the ropes, throwing one arm over Waverly’s shoulder.

Waverly wrinkles her nose. “You need a shower.”

Nicole leans in to whisper something in Waverly’s ear, but Dolls tosses a roll of tape at her and she twists instead, catching the tape in the back as she blocks Waverly. She glares over her shoulder at him before she looks back down at Waverly. “Sorry,” she murmurs, moving to pull away.

“Don’t be,” Waverly says softly. Her hands rest on Nicole’s bare hip bones, peeking out above her gym shorts. Her fingers splay across Nicole’s stomach and she slips one hand up a little further, scratching her nails right below the hem of Nicole’s sports bra. “Really. Don’t be.”

Dolls throws a glove this time.

Nicole winks at Waverly and stretches her arms high above her head, watching the way Waverly’s eyes follow her movement. She lingers for a second, mid-stretch, before she lets her arms fall, and turns back to Dolls. “Like I said, you’re ready.”

“I hope so,” Dolls says dryly. “The charity event is this weekend.”

Jeremy squeals. “Oh, the  _ shirts _ .” He slips out of the ring and out of the small gym.

Dolls frowns. “What shirts?”

Nicole laughs and lifts one of the ropes high enough for Waverly to slip under it. She follows after her, reaching back into the ring for her gloves.

Dolls leans over the top rope. “What shirts?”

Nicole pulls on her leather jacket, not bothering to put on the Alice in Chains t-shirt she stole from Nathan. She tucks it into the pocket of her jacket instead and laces her fingers in Waverly’s, tugging her out of the gym and into the cool, carpeted hallway of the country club.

“What shirts?” she hears Dolls yell.

 

-

The shirts are ready the day before the event. Jeremy picks them up and on the morning of the fight, he rides his bike to back of The Patch, arranging them on the hood of Nicole’s car. Nicole wrinkles her nose as she looks down at a row of Dolls’s face staring up at her. She reaches for the first one and Jeremy’s hand comes down on top of hers, smacking it.

She turns slowly, eyes narrowed. 

“I’m sorry,” he blurts out. “But that’s Doc’s shirt.”

Nicole opens her mouth to argue back, but Jeremy lifts the shirt she was going for and pulls the tag out from the inside, showing her the name ‘ _ Doc’ _ scribbled over the washing instructions.

“See?” He holds it closer to his face. “It’s Doc’s. I wrote-”

Nicole rips the shirt out his hand and drops it back on the hood of her car. She lets her hand hover over the next shirt, glancing at Jeremy. He ignores her and grabs the shirt she tossed, carefully refolding it, matching the sleeves and edges in straight, perfect lines.

“Jeremy,” she says impatiently.

He looks up, checks where she’s pointing, and shakes his head. “That’s Perry’s.”

She moves to the next shirt.

Jeremy winces. “That’s Chrissy’s.”

Nicole turns and crosses her arms over her chest. “Well, which one is  _ mine _ , then?”

Jeremy points to the second-to-last shirt. Nicole grabs the hem of her 1989 WrestleMania t-shirt, the one Nathan grew out of. She pulls it up and over her head in one smooth motion, tossing it through the open driver’s window. Someone whistles, but Nicole can’t see who it is until she pulls her new shirt on and brushes her hair out of her eyes.

Wynonna is leaning against the hood of the car, a shirt with Dolls’s face hanging off her finger.

“Bet this is the first and last time Dolls’s face has been all over your Pussy, huh?” she asks, winking.

Nicole chokes as she inhales, her lungs suddenly uncooperative. She thumps her fist against her chest and tries to get them to work, but she sputters uselessly and feels her legs start to wobble. A hand at her back rubs softly before it comes down hard between her shoulder blades, tears in her eyes. Waverly rubs in soft circles again, murmuring an apology in her ear. 

Wynonna laughs and looks pointedly at Jeremy until he turns and claps his hands over his eyes. Nicole chokes again when Wynonna pulls her black t-shirt off. She gives Nicole another wink and slowly pulls her Dolls t-shirt over her bare chest.

“Well that’s a sight,” Doc says, tipping his hat at Nicole and Waverly. His eyes slide down Nicole’s chest, lingering on the large picture of Dolls smiling against the white backdrop. “Now, surely, you cannot expect me to wear that.”

Jeremy peeks out from behind his fingers and sighs in relief when he sees everyone is clothed. He picks up the shirt Nicole had tried to wear and clutches it to his chest. “ _ This one _ is yours,” he breathes out. He stretches out his arms, the shirt clenched tightly between his hands.

Wynonna snorts and ducks around the side of the car, sliding into the passenger seat and opening the glove compartment. Nicole winces when she hears the sound of plastic against plastic; Wynonna is carelessly going through her cassettes again. Nicole takes a step towards the door, but Waverly runs her hand down Nicole’s back and hooks her fingers into Nicole’s back pocket.

“She’s not going to hurt them,” Waverly says.

Nicole glares through the windshield at Wynonna, hunched over the dashboard. “You don’t know what she did to my  _ One More For The Road _ cassette,” she grumbles.

Waverly rolls her eyes. “Because you won’t tell me.”

“There’s just some things I can’t stand to talk about,” Nicole says, pressing her hand to her chest. “It still  _ hurts _ .”

Waverly huffs and grabs a shirt off the car, pulling it down over the undershirt she already has on. “You’re so dramatic.”

Nicole opens her mouth to say something, but Perry’s Benz pulls up next to hers, spewing loose gravel across the back lot of The Patch. Chrissy grabs for a shirt as she soon as she gets out of the car and squeals.

“Oh my god, Jeremy. Theses are the  _ tits _ .”

Wynonna pokes her head out of Nicole’s car. “No, his face goes  _ on _ your tits.” She snickers when Nicole half-heartedly tries to grab for her.

Doc is still holding his shirt, his face twisted in confusion. “Am I required to wear this?”

“Strip, cowboy!” Wynonna shouts from the passenger seat. She cheers softly and leans out the window. “Nicole, gimme your keys.”

Nicole’s hand goes to her front pocket. “No way.”

Wynonna pulls herself up until the small buttons on the back pockets of her Levis are scratching against the window frame. Nicole’s entire body seizes and she grinds her back teeth together, taking one angry step forward. Waverly slips into the space in front of her and eases Wynonna back into the car, leaning back against the closed door.

“Baby, breathe,” she says calmly.

Nicole glares at Wynonna over Waverly’s shoulder. “First she’s rifling through my cassettes like they’re church pamphlets. Then she’s putting scratches in my paint job and, and-”

“ _ Breathe _ ,” Waverly coaches. Her fingers dip into Nicole’s front pocket and come back up with her car keys. “I’ll take care of her. You just make sure we have everyone so we can get going.” She smoothes her hands across Nicole’s stomach, lacing her fingers together at the small of Nicole’s back. 

Nicole can feel the hard metal of the keys digging into her spine, but Waverly tips her head to one side and gives her the sweetest smile. Any argument Nicole had fades into a pleasure buzz that floats away, replaced by the feel of Waverly’s lips against hers as Waverly pushes up on her toes and kisses her sweetly. 

“That’s not fair,” she mumbles against Waverly’s mouth.

Waverly pulls back, the corner of her mouth turned up. “What’s not fair?” she asks, one hand slipping under the hem of Nicole’s shirt and stroking the skin above the waist of her jeans.

“T-that,” Nicole stutters as Waverly’s hand slips a little lower.

Waverly steps back quickly and Nicole’s head spins as she tries to reorient herself. “Here,” she says, pushing the hem of Nicole’s shirt into the top of her jeans, tucking it in all the way around. “There you go, baby.” 

Nicole pushes against the itch in her fingertips, the one that screams to readjust the way Waverly bunched up parts of her shirt and how it’s not an even tuck, and smiles widely instead.

Waverly winks and gets into the Bonneville, turning the car on. The smooth hum of the engine rumbles in Nicole’s chest and steadies her a little. Waverly leans in over the steering wheel and gives Nicole a wide grin.

There’s something about  _ her _ girl in  _ her _ car that makes Nicole feel like life is worth living. 

A bright red 1991 Mustang GT Convertible whips into the back lot, nearly taking out the dumpster. It spins to a stop, and Rosita, gripping the passenger seat door, giggles loudly. She pushes up her oversized sunglasses and leans in to kiss the person driving - a guy in a leather jacket with his hair pushed back like Johnny Depp in  _ Cry Baby _ .

Rosita wiggles her fingers at him as he puts it in drive and peels back out of the lot.

“Who’s the Ritchie?”

Rosita shrugs a shoulder. “Steve? Tom?” She lowers her sunglasses again. “Oh my god, is that Xavier’s  _ face _ ?”

Nicole looks pointedly at Jeremy.

Rosita snorts. “That makes sense. Well. Gimme one so we can get this showboat on the road.”

It takes Nicole the next ten minutes to get Jeremy’s bike into her trunk, but she ties it down with an old shirt Doc fishes out of the backseat of Charlene. Wynonna pouts when she realizes Nicole is using her Metallica shirt as a tie down, but Nicole ignores her. 

_ Payback is a bitch _ , she thinks.

She lets Jeremy and Rosita get in her back seat and slides in along the front bench seat next to Waverly. Waverly smiles softly and drops her arm across Nicole’s thigh, scratching absently at her knee as they drive. Wynonna picked her new Def Leppard cassette,  _ Adrenaline _ , and the bass from “Let’s Get Rocked” pulses against her thigh where it’s pressed against the door speaker.

“ _ I'm your average ordinary everyday kid, happy to do nothin' _ ,” Nicole sings. Waverly smiles at her, and Wynonna bobs her head. She can hear Jeremy humming in the backseat. Rosita taps against Nicole’s headrest to the beat. Doc is on his motorcycle in her rearview mirror. “ _ In fact that's what I did. I got a million ways to make my day, but daddy don’t agree. _ ”

Dolls is waiting for them at the Old Kindersley Country Club, sitting on the fender of his  1986 Chevrolet Monte Carlo SS Convertible. The car still makes Nicole a little weak in the knees, but she pushes down the feeling when she sees the look on Dolls’s face.

“He’s nervous,” Nicole murmurs in Waverly’s ear.

Waverly runs her fingers along Nicole’s jawline. “Good thing he has you, then.”

They pile out of the cars and push through sweatered shoulders as they get in the door. She’s never seen so many fake smiles and double-stacked polos in her life. Someone hands her a Clearly Canadian sparkling water and she passes it off to Waverly quickly.

“ _ Oh _ , Wild Cherry,” Waverly squeals.

Nicole holds a boombox in her hands. It’s a Bon Sonic Lightning Bolt H-5000 she found cheap at the Sears in the city. She leaves it in her trunk for when Waverly tricks her into going out to their old secret hideout in the woods, so they have something to listen to. Her finger hovers over the play button as Dolls dances on his tiptoes behind her.

“Ready?” she asks him.

He taps his gloves together and rolls his shoulders. His neck is already shiny with a thin layer of sweat. “No,” he admits.

Nicole gives him a shaky smile. “Well. You should have mentioned that earlier.”

A hand grabs at her elbow. Waverly flashes her a smile and Nicole nods, then presses the play button. She holds her breath for a beat, a scratching noise coming from the lightning bolt speakers, followed quickly by the synth as the song starts.

It’s nearly a full thirty seconds into the intro of “The Final Countdown” that people start turning back to look at them.

They parade through the crowd, cutting through a sea of polos and pastels like motor oil across a garage floor. Perry and Chrissy are in front, a sweater tied around Perry’s shoulders. Chrissy is wearing a brand new dark denim jacket, not a hot-glued plastic jewel in sight. Rosita saunters after them in her high-waisted jean shorts and her knee-high leather boots. She curled her hair, and she looks like a better version of Madonna, winking at teenage boys in their white Keds and salmon-colored shorts. Wynonna is right behind her, sunglasses low on her nose as her eyes scan the room. The fringe on her leather jacket sways side to side as she reaches over and plucks a cheese straw out of someone’s hand. She chews it noisily. Doc pulls the brim of his black cowboy hat low over his eyes and the ends of his trenchcoat billow around him. Jeremy hurries behind after him, his own Keds slapping against the carpet. Waverly is in front of her, Nicole’s old flannel tied tight around her waist and Wynonna’s old Altama’s on her feet. 

Nicole’s Red Wing Brogue Rangers  _ thump _ heavily as she walks. She retucked her shirt when they got to the O.K. Country Club, when Waverly wasn’t looking, and she feels better. She straightens her shoulders so her Def Leppard patch is high on her jacket, so everyone can see it. She doesn’t need to worry about that; everyone is staring at them, stepping back to give them a clear line to the elevated ring in the center of the room.

Dolls is still rocking back and forth to the beat behind her. “I hate this song,” he mutters.

Nicole grins back at him over his shoulder. “Everyone loves this song. Even that stuck up couple in the corner."

Dolls looks towards the windows. “Those are my parents.”

Nicole chokes. “I, I mean, I didn’t-” She snaps her mouth shut when she sees him grinning. “ _ Dolls _ .”

“Couldn’t help myself, Haught.” He brings a glove down on her shoulder. “Showtime.” He climbs up onto the ring and rolls under the bottom rope, popping up onto his feet. 

Nicole hands the Bon Sonic to Waverly and climbs up after Dolls, hovering on the outside of the ropes. “First round. It’s Drek Clootie, from the Salt Flats Country Club. Doesn’t look anything like his momma, which is a shame. He’s like a blind, baby horse, so you’ll be fine.”

Dolls nods wordlessly and opens his mouth. Jeremy hands Nicole a mouthguard case and she pulls out the guard, sliding it into Dolls’s mouth. She beats her fists down on his shoulders. “Stay close to him and be quick.”

The bell rings and loud cheers swallow up the sound of Europe playing. It’s a quick match - Dolls lands a few punches in the first round and spends the rest of the round dancing from corner to corner, tiring Drek out. In the first thirty seconds of the second round, Dolls catches Drek in the ribs and follows it with a hard hook to the chin. Drek sways back and forth before he tilts too far to one side and drops. The referee counts to 10 slowly, but Drek stays down.

Their corner explodes, Doc wolf-whistling loudly over Wynonna cheering inappropriate words. Nicole looks back to wink at Waverly. Jeremy climbs the ropes and dumps a whole bottle of water over Dolls’s head, taking his mouthguard and carefully putting it back in the case. Nicole grabs the towel he’s holding and starts wiping Dolls down, lifting his chin to inspect where Drek’s single punch landed. She pulls him out of the ring and sits him down on a chair.

She hangs the towel over his shoulders as the next two fighters get into the ring. She gets her first look at Bryce Cooper and she winces. He’s not built much bigger than Dolls, but he’s just as quick. Nicole watches him land a solid jab to the center of Robbie Malick’s face, the fighter from The Reverends Country Club. It levels Robbie and his back hits the mat hard. He stands up, but he’s shaken.

It’s over in under three minutes.

Nicole swallows, a hard lump in her throat. “So that’s B-Train.”

Jeremy sighs heavily. “He’s going to flatten us.”

Dolls and Nicole both glare at him.

“I mean Dolls. He’s going to flatten Dolls.” Jeremy groans. “I mean, we’re gonna be great?”

Waverly ducks under Nicole’s arm and leans into her side. “Shitsticks, B-Train is a  _ beast _ .”

Wynonna pokes her head around Jeremy’s shoulder. “You’re going up against  _ that _ guy?”

Nicole growls softly. “Hey, we’re being  _ supportive _ .”

Wynonna shrugs. “You be support. I’ll be realistic.”

“Why’re you here again?” Nicole asks.

Wynonna grabs another cheese stick from a boy standing near them. “This bitchin’ shirt and the free food.”

The referee whistles for Dolls to get back in the ring. Nicole pops his mouthguard back in and shoves, pushing him under the rope. Lou Yiska from Pine Barren Country Club is already there, talking to someone in his corner. He’s a wiry guy with a thin face and small arms. But when the referee signals the start of the round, Lou zips across the ring and lets his fists fly. He moves in a circle, backing Dolls into a corner.

“Move!” Nicole shouts, banging on the mat. “Get out of there!”

Dolls manages to duck and move, getting clear of Lou for a second. Lou traps him again quickly, holding him against the ropes while Dolls pulls his gloves up to protect his face. He drops a glove for a second and Lou catches him in the eyebrow, the skin splitting. Blood gushes down Dolls’s face, into his eye, and the next punch catches him in the side. Dolls bends to block his side and Lou catches him in the head again.

The round ends and Nicole climbs onto the mat hurriedly, pushing Dolls down onto the stool Jeremy slings into the corner. “Holy shit,” she breathes out. “He’s really hitting you.”

Dolls looks up at her, one eye barely opening. “Did you think we were going to braid each other’s hair?”

Nicole wipes at the blood on his cheek a little harder than necessary.

Dolls flinches. He opens his mouth when Jeremy puts the straw of a water bottle to his lips, and takes a few long swallows. The referee signals for the next round to start and Nicole crouches in front of Dolls, pulling his eyes to hers.

“Listen to me. Stay  _ out _ of the corners. He’s going to try and trap you but you  _ need _ stay away from him,” she warns.

Dolls nods, gets back in the ring, and immediately gets stuck in the corner.

Nicole winces. She can feel Waverly pulling at her t-shirt and it comes untucked, the back of it hanging over the top of her jeans. She clenches her fist against her thigh but keeps her attention on Dolls, still stuck and blocking.

“Move, Dolls!” she yells.

Dolls glares at her over the top of his gloves as he holds them in front of his face.

She thumps her hand down on the mat. “Don’t look at me! Look at  _ him! _ ”

The round ends but Lou has managed to catch Dolls in the ribs and he’s breathing heavy. She sits him down and rewipes his face, trading the bloody hand towel for a clean one. “Listen, you have to move your feet. You’re not going to get to face Bryce Cooper if you don’t move your feet.”

Dolls’s eyes flash.

Nicole pauses and tips her head to one side. “You want to fight him, right? Like, we didn’t go through all of this to  _ not _ fight him.”

“He stole my Devo tape.”

Nicole pulls back a little. “Excuse me?”

Dolls looks up, his eyes narrowed. “He  _ stole _ my Devo tape.”

Nicole looks back at Bryce, lingering by the side of the ring, smirking at them. “Recently?”

“Sophomore year.”

Nicole groans. “Is  _ this _ why you’re fighting this guy? Because he stole your  _ shitty _ Devo tape?”

Dolls stands up, forcing Nicole back a step. “It was  _ Freedom of Choice _ .”

Nicole shakes her head. “I swear to god, Dolls, if you’re fighting him because he took the tape that-”

“It has ‘Whip It!’ on it, Haught!”

“-has ‘Whip It!’ on it!”

Nicole stares at Dolls. He does his best to glare back, one eyebrow still oozing.

The referee blows his whistle, calling the two fighters back to the ring. Dolls stands, leaning on Jeremy for a second.

Nicole pushes Dolls’s mouth guard into his mouth. “You’re not gonna whip anything unless you get through Lou, first.” She shoves him back towards the center of the ring.

He looks back at her as the referee touches both fighter’s gloves. His eyes skate over Nicole’s shoulder and lock on Bryce.

“If he wins, I’m going to buy him a new Devo tape,” Jeremy says, a soft smile on his face. 

“If you buy him a new Devo tape, I’m gonna tape headphones to your ears and make you listen to it until you cry,” Nicole hisses, her eyes still on Dolls’s face.

Something in it changes as he continues to look at Bryce. The referee blows his whistle and Dolls still hasn’t turned around. Nicole grabs the rope, ready to jump it as Lou pulls his arm back. His eyes and smile are wide, and he drops his other arm as he puts all of his weight behind his punching hand. Nicole is already pulling back the rope, the towel in her other hand on the floor, one foot on the small stool so she can push off easier.

Dolls meets her eyes just as Lou’s glove reaches his face.

He ducks.

Nicole lets go of the rope in surprise. Dolls rises and plants his fist into Lou’s unguarded side. Lou buckles into the punch and Dolls moves up, a few quick jabs to his other side and then his face. Lou stumbles back and Dolls follows, settling into a 1-1-2 pattern Nicole knows well: jab, jab, cross, jab, jab, cross. Lou goes left when Dolls jabs right and then they’re in the corner again, Lou back against the corner padding. 

Dolls goes for the jab-jab-cross and follows it with an uppercut. Lou’s neck snaps up and to the left, a spray of blood coming from his now-broken nose. He drops, dazed, to his knees. Dolls steps back, his chest heaving.

Lou sinks forward onto his face and stays there.

The referee counts to ten and Jeremy screams in her ear. Nicole climbs into the ring and grabs Dolls by the shoulders, shaking him.

“Fuckin’ Devo,” she mutters. 

Wynonna and Doc are holding the ropes high enough for Dolls to step between them. Perry helps him off the mat and Jeremy slides the stool under him just as he sits down. Nicole grabs his water bottle and dumps it over him, toweling his face off.

Dolls holds out his hands, indicating that he wants his gloves off. Nicole searches her pockets for her scissors, but then a hand comes up in front of her, holding them. She smiles gratefully at Waverly and edges the tip of the scissors under Dolls’s taped wrists.

Bryce Cooper is already back in the ring, up against August Hamilton from Big Deep Lake Country Club. August  is older than the rest of the competitors and Bryce dances around him until he trips on his own feet. He hits the mat hard enough that Nicole feels the floor shake. Her mouth drops open when the referee drops and counts slowly to ten, August Hamilton still flat on his back. 

Nicole checks her Casio - only 1 minute and 50 seconds has gone by.  “ _ Fuck _ ,” she breathes out. 

She blindly hands the scissors back and feels Waverly take them. She shakes her head. “No time. He’s already done.”

Dolls groans.

The referee leans over the rope. “You ready to get back in here, son?”

Nicole looks down at Dolls.

Dolls nods silently.

Nicole pulls him to his feet. Jeremy is rubbing at his shoulders. She scrambles to find something to stay and settles for slapping him on the back and offering him a hand up. 

Just as he climbs into the ring, she grabs him by the end of the shorts. “For Devo.”

Dolls swallows heavily. “For Devo.”

The referee waves them both forward. Dolls taps gloves with Bryce, the two of them walking around each other slowly. The referee blows his whistle and Nicole starts her stopwatch, the seconds hand racing. They dance around the ring for the first minute, testing punches and the distance as they bounce on the tips of their toes. 

Someone on the other corner starts yelling for Bryce, thumping a fist against the mat. “B-Train!” they shout. Nicole narrows her eyes at the two guys - one looks familiar, though she’s not sure where she remembers him from. She shakes her head and focuses her attention back on Dolls.

“Come on, Dolls,” she shouts. She looks over at Waverly, jumping up and down next to her. 

It’s stupid - and impossible - but she  _ swears _ she hears Van Halen in the distance, “Love Walks In” playing somewhere in the background. Waverly jumps up again and grabs Nicole’s arm, squeezing it tightly. Van Halen feels closer now, roaring in her memory.

Suddenly, the roar is louder and Waverly’s fingers are digging into her arm, cutting small half-moon shapes into her skin. Dolls is bouncing away, Bryce’s eye red from the impact of glove on skin. Waverly winds her fingers into Nicole’s belt loop, nervously biting at her bottom lip. Nicole kisses the top of her head, lingering for a second. Her own heart is racing and she can feel her pulse in her fingertips.

The round ends. Dolls only lands one hit, but Bryce didn’t make contact at all.

Nicole breathes a little easier. She lets Jeremy towel Dolls down and Waverly give him his water. She leans back against the ring and stares over at Bryce’s corner. She groans when she sees Bryce leaning over the rope, smiling down at Rosita. She watches, eyes wide, as Rosita fishes into her purse and hands Bryce her compact. Bryce flips it open and slicks back a lock of hair that’s hanging down on his forehead.

Waverly leans into her side. “Geez. I’ve never seen a fighter this concerned about his hair.”

Nicole snorts, but her eyes keep drifting back to that guy in Byrce’s corner. It’s not until Bryce tells the other guy to get lost that she remembers who he is.

“Skip Morgan,” she says, her teeth gritted.

He grins at her. “Hey, Nicky.”

She scowls. “That’s not my name.”

Skip shrugs. “Who cares?” He looks away, back at Bryce. 

Waverly’s hand rests on the center of her back. “You okay?”

Nicole shrugs. Skip Morgan used to be Nathan’s best friend when they were younger, but then his dad got a good stock tip, came into some money, and Skip forgot about showing up after school to play with Nathan. He always called her  _ Nicky _ , even after she told him not to; even  _ after _ she ripped his Sandy Koufax baseball card.

She turns on Dolls. “You better kick his ass.” Waverly’s hand scratches lightly through her shirt, calming her. “Do you hear me?”

Dolls nods sharply. “Loud and clear, Haught.”

The whistle blows and the next round starts. Waverly stays pressed into her side, grounding her. She reaches up and twists a strand of Waverly’s hair around her finger,  _ twist and pull and twist and pull. _ Dolls is bouncing on the tips of his toes, shuffling around the ring. Bryce jabs and Dolls blocks. Dolls feints to the left and goes right, catching Bryce in the elbow. They trade soft crosses and jabs and hooks, dancing in and dancing out again. 

“Why aren’t they hitting each other?” Waverly asks, her mouth close to Nicole’s ear.

“They’re trying to wear each other out?” Nicole guesses.

The round ends without any contact, and Nicole climbs into the ring, clapping Dolls on the back. Waverly comes up next to her, ignoring the whistles from Byrce’s corner. Nicole keeps a smile on her face as she leans in. “What the hell are you doing?”

Dolls pants, trying to catch his breath. “Wearing him down,” he manages to say.

Nicole sighs. “Dolls, you gotta get  _ in _ there with him. You gotta go to the body.”

Dolls shakes his head. “ All I wanna do is go the distance,” he says quietly. She has to lean in to hear him over the crowd talking. “Nobody's ever gone the distance with B-Train, and if I can go that distance, you see, and that bell rings and I'm still standing, well. That’s pretty all right, isn’t it?”

Nicole grabs Dolls by the back of the neck and pulls him forward, so close to his face that she’s breathing in what he’s breathing out. “Xavier, look at me.  _ Look at me _ .” She waits until his eyes, slightly glazed and unfocused, find hers. “What did it feel like when that bag took your Devo tape?”

Something flashes across Dolls’s eyes. “Like someone punched me in the stomach.”

Nicole glances over at Bryce, sitting up against the opposite corner post. “And I bet he took that tape and he cracked the plastic casing.” She sees Dolls’s face twitch. “And I bet he unspooled it, didn’t he. I bet he slipped a finger into the track and caught the tape with this fingernail. I bet he pulled it out, let the whole reel just  _ go _ , didn’t he?”

Dolls’s teeth grind together hard enough that Nicole can hear them.

“I bet he cracked off the pressure pad so you couldn’t even put it back together, didn’t he?” she whispers.

Dolls growls and his eyes go dark. “I’m going to turn him into hamburger meat.”

Nicole shakes him slightly. “ _ Good _ .”

He stands and paces the length of the rope, huffing and glaring at Bryce.

Waverly is staring at her wide eyes as they climb back out of the ring. “That was…  _ really _ graphic.”

Nicole takes a deep, steadying breath. “I had a nightmare like that once.”

The referee blows the whistle and Dolls steps in, eyes and hands sharper now. He goes on the offensive hard and fast: jab-jab-cross and jab-cross and jab-cross-left uppercut-cross. He dances back when Bryce tries to corner him and blocks high and low when he can’t get away. 

The next round, Bryce is ready. They go hit-for-hit and when the referee blows the whistle, Dolls slumps onto his stool, struggling to catch his breath as Jeremy rubs out his shoulders and arms. 

Skip stays out of the ring, sliding towards their corner. He smirks at her, wiggling his eyebrows. “You think this yuppie can really take down B-Train?”

Nicole rolls her eyes. “You really call him B-Train?”

“B-Train is a-a  _ train _ ,” Skip shouts, his eyes narrowed. He pushes his sleeves up, looking exactly like Nicole remembers him - ten years old and about to throw a fit. “He could put your stupid excuse of a fighter into a coma!”

Nicole looks past Skip, to Bryce. He’s sitting on the stool, leaning back heavily against the corner post. Someone pushes a water bottle into his mouth but it slips back out again.

“Sure, Skip. Okay,” Nicole drawls.

“Get bent,” he says, moving back to his corner.

The next round is too quick. Dolls is lightning fast, throwing combinations Nicole didn’t show him. She can barely keep up with his movements as he works Bryce from one end of the ring to the other. She doesn’t see Dolls throw the punch that breaks Bryce’s nose, but she hears it. The round ends and Dolls roars, beating his chest with his gloves. Waverly laugh in her ear. 

Nicole sits him down, but lets Jeremy fawn over him. Instead, she paces the distance of the rope, her eyes on Bryce and the splash of blood on his face, streaming down his neck.

Skip pushes back Bryce’s head, wincing. “Well, dammit. It’s broken.”

“How does it look?” Bryce asks, his voice thick.

Nicole squints and shrugs. “Ah, it’s an improvement.”

Skip turns and glares at her. “Get back to your yuppie.”

Something changed, though, and Nicole can see it. Bryce is shaken.  _ The B-Train has been derailed _ , she thinks. He’s unsteady on his feet when he gets back in the ring. He’s favoring his left side and his right arm is positioned slightly lower than when he started, heavy and tired.

“Dolls,” Nicole hisses. He looks back at her. “Don’t let the bastard breathe.”

Dolls nods.

It takes just under a minute. Nicole keeps glancing down at the seconds on her Casio, looking back and forth between her watch and the ring. Dolls is lighter somehow, quicker than the last few rounds. Bryce tries to step back to avoid a jab and catches a right hook instead. He dips to avoid a left cross and walks into an uppercut. Everywhere he tries to go, Dolls is there. He doesn’t let Bryce breathe; backing him into one corner post and then moving him along the ropes.

At the forty-five second mark, Dolls feints left, dips right, and comes up under Bryce’s chin, the square top of his glove driving up hard enough that Bryce’s teeth crack together sharply.

Byrce falls like a brick wall, hitting the mat with a thud that shakes the ring.

The referee doesn’t even get to count to ten. Dolls throws his arms up and starts jumping up and down. Jeremy scales the ropes and climbs into the ring, screaming Dolls’s name. Nicole grabs Dolls, hugging him tightly.

“You did it, Dolls!”

He taps his glove against her shoulder. “For Devo.”

She grins widely. “For Devo.”

The ring is filled with people grabbing for Dolls and shoving her aside. She spins, scanning the swelling crowd for Waverly. 

“Waverly!” she shouts.

Over the roar of the crowd she can hear someone calling her name.

“Waverly!”

“Nicole!”

Nicole shoves Skip out of her way. “Waverly!”

A hand grabs for her shirt, tugging her back. She spins and pulls Waverly closer, laughing into her hair as she hugs her. “I love you.”

“He won!” Waverly squeals. “He, like, actually won.”

Nicole leans back and threads her hands through Waverly’s hair. “I love you,” she says again.

Waverly’s eyes soften. Her hands slide around Nicole’s waist. “I love you, too.” She presses up on her toes.

Nicole meets her halfway, eyes closing as she kisses her softly. When she opens her eyes, Wynonna is climbing the ropes, settling on top of the corner post. She's holding Nicole’s Bon Sonic boombox in her hands. Nicole’s heart thumps uncomfortably in her chest and she moves to take a step as Wynonna presses play.

“The Final Countdown” starts, the instrumental building as Wynonna cranks the volume all the way up. The speakers scratch and Wynonna’s arms shake as she tries to hold onto it. 

Nicole swallows heavily. “I'm just going to-”

Waverly kisses her again, and Nicole loses her train of thought. “I love you,” Waverly repeats.

Nicole sighs softly, Wynonna forgotten for a moment. “I love you, too.”

Behind her, Dolls is standing on the ropes, screaming at the top of his lungs. “Yo, Jeremyyyy!”


End file.
